Life after the Fall
by holmie28
Summary: The story takes into account what happens after Sherlock's "death," following the life of Mary who now resides at 221B Baker Street.
1. Chapter 1: The Arrival

Chapter 1: The Arrival

"Thanks," the young woman handed the taxi driver the fare plus tip. The paper bills felt weird in her hand, something she would have to get used to living in a new country. Her heart fluttered with the excitement of starting over.

She fumbled with her things now sitting on the curb, searching the outer pockets of her luggage, carry on, and coat as the cab drove away. "Where is that piece of… a ha!" The woman pulled out a piece of crumpled paper from her coat pocket. "Always the last place you look." Unfolding it, she read the address: 221B Baker Street. Tilting her head up to the street sign, she confirmed it was indeed _the_ street.

"Onward, I guess," muttering again to herself. A soft but pitiful whine came from the box sitting next to her suitcase. The young woman picked it up and peered into it. Her large brown eyes met the green eyes of a tuxedo cat, restless from the long trip. "I'm sorry, baby. I promise I'll let you out as soon as I possibly can. Bear with me a moment more."

She pulled the handle up from her suitcase and dragged it behind her down Baker street, with her cat in her left hand (still whining) and her carry on bag over her shoulder. The woman passed row after row of flats with black doors and shiny gold knockers. "217…219…221… Here we are." The door was black like all the rest, right next to a café called Speedy's. The young woman smiled a little at the quaintness of Baker Street. Such a great place, central to it all, for such a low price… there must be a catch. She carried her things up to the door and placed her beloved cat on the ground once more so she could ring the doorbell.

"Coming, coming!" shouted a voice from within.

_Mrs. Hudson, I presume,_ she thought, remembering the voice over the phone. The woman had answered an ad Mrs. Hudson had placed online, trying to find someone to rent her flat that had been unoccupied for some time now. The conversation was brief, but it had peaked her interest. After all, affordable housing was hard to come by in London.

An older woman opened the door wearing a green smock over her purple dress, her wispy, blonde hair coming off the top of her head in different directions. "Hello, dear, you must be Mary. Come in, come in. Don't mind my appearance, I was just making some dinner." Mrs. Hudson moved aside, letting the young woman into the cramped foyer with her belongings. A small meow came from the box as the cat shifted.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Mrs. Hudson," Mary smiled. She lifted the box in her hand. "This is Schrodinger, my cat. I did mention to you I had a cat on the phone, right?"

"Of course you did, dear," the landlady nodded at the cage, "What a beautiful cat he is."

"And very friendly. And, and doesn't scratch anything. You'll never have to worry about that." Mary was hoping to find a nice home for both her _and_ her companion since most landlords weren't too keen on the idea of an animal running around.

Mrs. Hudson smiled and pointed up the stairs. "The flat is up there if you would like to take a look."

Mary climbed the stairs, leaving her cat and belongings in the foyer. She walked across the landing and through the door straight ahead into a large space lined with empty bookshelves. Bright light streamed in from the two windows on the far wall, illuminating the dust covering the floor and the stack of boxes in the one corner.

"This is the living area, 'scuse the boxes. They will be out of here as soon as… as possible," Mrs. Hudson stammered a bit then recovered. "You are studying in London?"

"Yes, at the University of London. Sociology, focusing on crime and methods," Mary remarked aloud, strolling over to the boxes. "Mrs. Hudson, you said that this apartment… er flat hasn't been occupied for a bit. I assumed one, two months, but by the state of things, it looks like it's been more than that." Directly above the boxes, a simple, yellow face looked at her with a maniacal grin. She reached up to touch the faded wallpaper underneath, her fingers finding indents in the wall. She withdrew her hand suddenly. "Bullet… holes?" Mary turned to the landlady who was nervously rubbing her neck.

"The man who lived her before was a little… eccentric. The flat does have character… and… and a cozy kitchen with a stainless steel refrigerator." She waved behind her, hesitantly. "There is more to see, like the nice master bedroom. Very spacious.

"He wasn't murdered here was he." She had to ask, the rent was just too cheap not to.

"No! Oh good gracious no!" Mrs. Hudson clutched her chest. "He committed suicide, dear…. But not in this flat." She continued, noticing Mary's shock. "No. Jumped off the hospital roof." Tears welled up in her eyes and Mary felt a pang of guilt for curiosity.

"I'm… I'm so sorry," Mary whispered, "You were… close to him?"

"Like a son to me," Mrs. Hudson wiped the corner of her right eye. "He's been gone for 6 months now. His flatmate moved out shortly after his death. Couldn't stand living here without him, I s'ppose."

Mary nodded with a halfhearted grin. She didn't know how to comfort the kind woman, her first and only acquaintance in London. After a moment of awkward silence, she started, "You said there was a master bedroom? Spacious, yes?"

Mrs. Hudson sniffed and cleared her throat. "Yes, it's this way." She smiled, tears still glittering in her eyes as she lead the way to a room off the living area.

The room was spacious, even with the large wooden bedframe and the matching wardrobe still in it. It was a sage green color with beautifully ornate, damask wallpaper. It stood out in stark contrast to the rest of the flat. It felt warm, lived in. Mary opened the wardrobe, which was empty save for another small box at the bottom and a mirror that hung on the inside of the door. Mary caught her reflection: short red hair, tussled by sleeping on the plane, pale skin with deep circles under her eyes. She didn't feel jetlagged, but she sure as hell looked like she was.

"I will have the bedframe and the wardrobe taken out with the boxes, no worries there."

"No," Mary spoke abruptly without thinking. Collecting herself, she closed the wardrobe and spoke, "That won't be necessary. I need a bed and wardrobe. If no one wants it or you had plans of giving it away, that is. I mean, I already have to buy so much as it is."

Mrs. Hudson hesitated. "Alright, they are beautiful pieces. Perhaps it would be good for a young lady to give them some care." She brightened a little at the thought. "So does this mean you will take the place?"

Mary could hear Schrodinger meowing and scratching eagerly at his box. "On one condition: you tell me the truth." She looked the landlady straight in the eye. "Why would a place like this, in the middle of London, one of the most expensive cities to live in, so cheap?"

Mrs. Hudson answered her question with another question, "Have you ever heard of Sherlock Holmes?"

"Was he the man that lived here? I can't say I am familiar with his name."

"Well, it's a long story, deary." Mrs. Hudson sighed, "Perhaps I will tell you when I feel up to it. O'er tea sometime… The long and short of it is that no one wants to live in a flat that used to house a… well murderer."

Mary gulped. "And was he… a murderer? Mrs. Hudson?"

Mrs. Hudson's eyes were glassy again, but did not break Mary's gaze. "No. Not my Sherlock."

It was something in the way her voice sounded, strong with a hint of anger to it. "I'll take it," Mary confirmed. _Besides, a dead murderer isn't going to hurt me_.


	2. Chapter 2: The Doctor

Chapter 2: The Doctor

John walked around Hyde Park as he usually did every morning, sipping coffee from a paper cup. This was normal for an older man to do and he needed normality, not adventure. His last adventure ended nearly six months ago.

_Six months_, he thought to himself. _Six months... has it been that long? _As soon as he could, John packed up what little belongings he had at 221B Baker Street and moved into a small room downtown. If it weren't for the hours at the clinic, he would have had to move in with Harry. He often wondered if he should try to post outside the city, somewhere in the quiet countryside, but he enjoyed the liveliness of it all. And perhaps, maybe there was a bit of him that still had hope.

John settled into a park bench to take in the scenery and let his leg rest a bit. He knew it was all in his head, but the ache grew stronger and stronger each day. _This is age_, he thought to himself, taking a long sip on his coffee, black, no sugar. He thought of the last time he drank sugar in his coffee because someone had made that cup for him.

Before he could entertain the memory any further, John's mobile started to ring. His heart pounded a little. _Please, be him_. As he dug it out of his pocket, he glanced at the screen before answering. "MRS. HUDSON," it read.

"Damn," he breathed in disappointment before tapping the answer button. " 'Ello, Mrs. H."

"John, good news! I have a new tenant!" Mrs. Hudson's voice was cheerful as ever.

"Oh, that's great. That's… that's wonderful, Mrs. H." John's heart sank thinking about someone moving into _their_ space. But it wasn't _their_ space any longer. It hadn't even remained _his _place for long. "Was it the girl you spoke with on the phone last week?"

"Yes, that girl from America."

"Mary was it?"

"Yes, Mary from America." Mrs. Hudson giggled at her joke.

"I'm guessing you'll need help moving the rest of Sher-… the rubbage out then. That's why you are calling, right?"

"You have been promising for months to do just that, dear. Just the boxes. She wants to keep the bedframe and wardrobe."

John gritted his teeth. He shouldn't be upset that they were going to a new owner, since he didn't want them at his place but still.

After a few minutes of silence, Mrs. Hudson started again, "John, it is hard for both of us. I understand why you had to move out and so quickly. I know you are hurting. But, dear, you need to let go. Perhaps stepping foot in that flat one last time may give you that closure."

He sighed. "I'll be over first thing tomorrow morning."

* * *

"Good morning, Mrs. Hudson," John smiled as the landlady opened the door.

"John!" The woman exclaimed with such excitement. "Come in, let me look at you."

John smiled as she took in the sight of him. "Nothing's changed since last week, Mrs. H., I assure you." John made it a habit to take Mrs. Hudson out to dinner at least once a week to keep her busy.

"Oh, come on, John," she placed a hand on his arm, "You must have some girl you are talking to. You look as fit as ever."

John had had a lot of free time since moving out of Baker Street. He started doing light exercises, more walking. He laughed a little, "No, no girl."

"Oh," Mrs. Hudson touched a hand to her chest, "a boyfriend then? I always wonder about you and Sher-"

"I'm not gay, Mrs. Hudson," John stated in an exacerbated tone. He softened his voice not to offend the woman, "I'm single and still looking."

Mrs. Hudson patted his arm with a smile, "Well, you're just in luck. I told you about Mary, the new tenant? She may be a bit young for you, but she is quite pretty and smart. She's a student at the University of London."

"She sounds lovely…. And, and I'm sure it's nice to have someone around here again." A hint of regret filled John then. _I should have never left her, but I just can't live in the same flat… not without him_.

"It is," Mrs. Hudson smiled, sadly. "Different from you boys. You know, having a girl around here. Quite different. You should meet her."

"Perhaps next time. Barging in right now would seem a bit… rude."

"Nonsense. Besides, you came to remove those boxes. You need to go up there, John. There's no use in avoiding it."

John was hoping to avoid entering 221B and going up those steps, but he knew Mrs. Hudson was right. He couldn't avoid the flat any longer and _his_ things needed to go. "I'll make good on my promise."

Mrs. Hudson squeezed his arm and shuffled back to her kitchen. John hesitated for a few moments and drew a quick breath, mounting the stairs as he did months ago. The door to the flat was wide open. On the floor knelt a beautiful woman; with short tousled hair, dressed in lounge sweats, gazing into the empty eye sockets of a human skull.

* * *

Mary woke up to Schrodinger purring and the aroma of fresh coffee in the air. She had the best night sleep she had had since she arrived in London, seeing that her king sized mattress had finally been delivered yesterday. She stretched a little, sinking down into her tan silky sheets and royal purple comforter, which matched the green of the room perfectly. Mary had every intention of peeling off the ancient wallpaper, but something held her back. Instead, she worked with what she had.

Besides the mattress, Mary had purchased a nice wooden vanity that complimented the other pieces. It sat on the far wall along with other things from home that had also arrived in various boxes the day before. That was today's project: boxes… and the arrival of a new couch.

Schrodinger was obviously annoyed, nuzzling Mary's face and moving to sit on her head to get her up out of bed. "Fine, fine," she muttered, tossing back the cover. "I'm going. I have to clean the living room before two anyways."

Mary shuffled into the kitchen with her cat at her heals. After giving him a scoop of dry cat food and fresh water, she fixed her coffee just the way she liked it: sweet with lots of sugar. Sipping her coffee, she surveyed the living area in the morning light. The floor needed a good scrubbing and the empty bookshelves some dusting. But the boxes in the corner… Mrs. Hudson's friend was coming around to pick them up, but Mary was curious.

"First thing's first, Shro," Mary remarked to the cat now basking on the windowsill, licking himself clean of his breakfast, "Let's see what's in these boxes, shall we?"

Mary crossed the room from the kitchen, bringing her coffee with her. She knelt down by a large box on the floor, setting her large cup on the ground next to her. Opening the flaps, she found a confusing array of documents and newspaper clippings. She picked up the first yellowing piece of paper. "Building explodes in central London, 12 people killed." She read out loud. Flipping to another, "Leading scientist killed in mine explosion in open field…" Mary made a mental note to read these stories later when she had a proper place to sit.

She pushed the box aside and scooted towards another. Dust flew into the air as she opened the lid to the second box. A pang of shock followed by curiosity hit her hard. Sitting on top of more newspaper clippings was a human skull.

"Not a murderer, indeed," Mary commented, lifting it up out of the box. It felt heavy and gritty in her hands. Turning it over, she found no sign of where it was made. Perhaps it was real. She leaned back on her toes, holding the skull up to eye level.

A smile played upon her lips. She couldn't help herself. "Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio," she quoted.

"And here I thought Mrs. Hudson had rid this flat of the Skull Friend," a voice came from the doorway.

Mary turned her head from the skull to the man leaning against the doorway. He was short, but muscular with sandy blonde hair. His outfit was simple: a bland tan sweater over a blue button down shirt paired with jeans and brown shoes. For some reason, Mary could only see military as she gazed at him, standing with his arms crossed and a half grin. For an older man, he was handsome. Well, handsome enough for Mary to become suddenly aware of her raggedy appearance.

She placed the skull back where she had found it, stood up, and wiped her dusty hands on her sweat pants. "Hi," she said calmly, trying to gain composure. "I am not quite sure what to say to a strange man in my flat who just witnessed me quoting Shakespeare to a skull." _Smooth, Mary_.

"And I'm wondering why a lovely, young woman is talking to a skull in the first place," he responded. A small blush filled his cheeks and he looked away. They both laughed nervously. "Sorry. I... I'm Dr. John Watson. I used to… I knew the man who used to live here." He cleared his throat and came forward. "And you must be…?" He asked, holding out his hand.

"Mary," she took his hand firmly in hers, "Mary Morstan. And that's Schrodinger." She nodded at the cat now marking John's leg with his body and purring loudly."

"He seems to like me," John scratched the cat's head in recognition.

"Yea, I think I have the only cat in London that loves strangers. So, you knew Sher-"

"Yes." John cut Mary off abruptly, standing straight. He hadn't talked about Sherlock since his last session with his psychiatrist months ago and he wasn't going to start now. _Sherlock Holmes… my fri-… Sherlock is dead_. "Mrs. Hudson has been bugging me about helping her get rid of those boxes for months. I figure it is a good time to do it so you can settle down."

Mary could sense the tension that came over the man as he looked around the space. He hadn't been here for quite some time, that was evident, and was itching to leave. She nodded at him. "Actually, I can handle tossing them out. I'm curious about their contents. I'm not from London and I don't know who this Sher-… Who the last renter was. I would like to be in the know."

"There's really nothing curious about the contents of those boxes, believe me."

"Well I am the new tenant and I already am keeping the bedframe and the wardrobe. I figure no one really cares about these belongings, especially if you are going to throw them away. Besides, nothing is more curious than a human skull in a abandoned box, Dr. Watson."

They stood for a bit gazing at each other, Mary now crossing her arms in defiance. John chuckled, "You got me there. Perhaps that's the only curious thing. Have fun sifting through rubbage." The sooner someone caved, the sooner he could leave the flat.

"Oh I will, Dr. Watson."

"Call me John, Miss Mary," he smiled at the young woman. There was something about her that he couldn't place, something he was familiar with, that he missed for quite some time. He liked her defiance.

Mary blushed a little. _What is wrong with me, the first guy that comes along in London and I'm smitten! _She then realized that an awkward silence had fallen between John and her. "Uh... wouja... I mean, would you care for a cup of coffee? I have a single serving coffee machine and it wouldn't take much effort to get you some."

"No, no thank you," John answered politely. He noticed Mary's smile faltered a bit. "Perhaps another time. I should be going, I have to be at the clinic in about an hour."

"Right, and I should clean this place anyways." She gestured to the room around her. "If you ever want to stop by, or... or go out sometime, you can give me a call. I mean, that's if you want to... I don't know many people here in London and it would be nice to have a conversation with someone other than my cat or landlady. It could just be a nice chat in the park or... or..." _Shut up, Mary_.

"I'd like that." John found her awkwardness endearing. "How about a late dinner? Tonight? There's a great Chinese restaurant we can walk to. That's if Americans like Chinese."

"Love it."

"Good... good. I'll meet you on the doorstep at 8?"

"Perfect."

"See you then." John turned to walk down the stairs, paused, and glanced back to Mary. "There's really nothing in those boxes." With that, he smiled and disappeared down the steps.

Mary listened to him bid farewell to the landlady and then leave through the front door. Her stomach was all butterflies. "Schro, I think I have a date tonight."


End file.
